


Hellfire

by lacedwithlilacs



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Forest Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been months since Athelstan and Ragnar have seen each other, have been together, and the moment that they have any sort of privacy demands the other's touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergence of when Ragnar and Athelstan leave the Vikings' camp together.
> 
> sorry about title

"I will give King Ecbert your answer," Athelstan says as he moves to gather his donkey's bridle. It pains him to peel himself away from the Vikings. It pains him to go back to Ecbert, speak in Old English, read him Latin texts, and try to shut away his Viking lifestyle. These people, he did not expect to see Lagertha with them but she is a welcomed face, are more of his family than the Christians. He has tried for months to push away the northern ways, but they come back to him too fast for him to process.

From the crowd, he hears the familiar voice that brings him more heartache than seeing Bjorn grown up. "I will accompany you; part of the way." Athelstan does not miss the side eyes of the other leaders, Horik and Lagertha who look at Ragnar with narrowed eyes. It is hard to not smile too wide, extend his hand out towards Ragnar and feel him beneath his fingertips. It has been months, nearing a year since he's seen Ragnar who looks just as handsome and amusing as before.

All he wants is to close the gap between them, feel Ragnar's body against his. Skin against skin, every sharp angle of Athelstan's body pressed against Ragnar's muscles. He wants Ragnar's fingers between his locks of hair, Ragnar's lip between his teeth. They keep their distance though as Athelstan leads his donkey into the woods. Ragnar throws his arm around Athelstan's shoulder, the first physical contact that they've made in months.

The skin burns red and hot beneath Athelstan's dress, his body warm beneath the layers of clothing, all from Ragnar's arm against Athelstan's back. Ragnar pulls him close, so that Athelstan can feel all those familiar muscles against his side. Ragnar's hand presses on Athelstan's upper chest and Athelstan wishes that Ragnar would just tear his clothing away right now. In the broad daylight of the clearing, in front of everyone's eyes because Athelstan thinks that waiting a second longer will make him go crazy.

There is the vague sense of someone watching them still as they enter the forest, Athelstan is not as completely naïve as all the Vikings think he is. When they turn on the path towards the castle, dip behind the wall of trees, Athelstan cannot hold himself back any longer. He drops the rope lead on his donkey, turns to face Ragnar and kisses him. He grabs at Ragnar's jaw, Ragnar's hand shifting from Athelstan's front to his back and pulling him in.

It feels so good, like every inch of Athelstan is on fire. The cross that now hangs between their bodies burns him through his cloth, but he has imagined himself bleeding from every spot, had nails dug through his hands. There is nothing that God can do to him now, not in Ragnar's grasp. He hopes whoever is watching, whether that be an untrusting Viking or God himself, gets a good look.

Ragnar turns them, backs Athelstan up with both his large frame and the ferocity of his kisses, until Ragnar pushes Athelstan up against the trunk of a tree. There, all that Athelstan has to worry about is kissing Ragnar, no longer worried about his knees going weak or losing his balance. His hands run up, grasps Ragnar's long hair and pulls back. The skin at Ragnar's throat tastes as sweet as he remembered it and the growl that Ragnar emits vibrates against his lips. "Feisty," Ragnar says as he forces Athelstan's lips against his own again.

No matter how many times they kiss, how hard Ragnar presses his hips against Athelstan's, there will never be enough to make up for the months they've spent apart. "Athelstan," Ragnar says against Athelstan's skin, like a chant, a prayer that he's been practicing over and over. Ragnar pulls away, pushes softly against Athelstan's shoulder as he tries to chase Ragnar's lips.

Ragnar takes a step back, drops to his knees and sits on the backs of his calves as Athelstan leans back against the trunk of the tree, his entire body numb to any other sensation than Ragnar's touch. Ragnar pushes Athelstan's tunic up and holds the bunched up cloth there until Athelstan takes it. Ragnar leans forward, wraps his hand around Athelstan's cock and begins stroking with quick, sure movements. He does not want to waste time, they have done enough waiting that finesse is not a top priority anymore.

When Athelstan is hard enough, Ragnar surges up onto his knees, and licks at the tip of Athelstan's cock. Athelstan's head thumps dully against the bark as Ragnar licks steady, thick swipes along Athelstan's length. It feels so good, so wondrous that he cannot even think about being without Ragnar for so long again.

Even he can feel the hesitation though, the slight reserve that Ragnar has as he begins sucking, unsure after so long of not having anyone to please like this. He reaches down with his free hand, places it on the back of Ragnar's head and guides him, reassures him that Ragnar Lothbrok has not lost his touch. He feels almost proud that Ragnar hasn't had another man, hasn't sucked another man's cock like this since he's been away. If Athelstan were a woman, he wouldn't be so sure of Ragnar's faithfulness, but he knows he's been faithful by the way that Ragnar had attacked his lips so hungrily.

Ragnar sucks him down, slides his tongue against the bottom of Athelstan's cock, traces veins with his tongue. Athelstan cannot feel anything beyond the feeling of Ragnar's warm mouth against him, the soft, momentary constrictions when Ragnar swallows around him. He had touched himself at night, when he was certain that not even a mouse stirred in the entire castle. Wrapped his hand around his cock like God told him not to and thought of Ragnar's hand instead of his. But even with the nights of sin, he still finds himself coming to his climax almost embarrassingly quickly.

His breathing is labored, his hand gripping tighter on the back of Ragnar's head as Ragnar swallows him down further, all the way and Athelstan lets out a high whimper. "Ragnar," he repeats as religiously as Ragnar had said his name before, "I am close." Ragnar pushes forward again, swallows around Athelstan's cock and all but begs for Athelstan to come down his throat.

Ragnar takes him with pride, swallowing everything that Athelstan gives him. When he is exhausted of all energy, leaning against the tree because he cannot even bear to stand. "Good gods," Athelstan mutters out as Ragnar rises to his feet and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He kisses Athelstan, holds the priest against his body like it is holy, like he could not part with it even in death.

Athelstan expects to be encouraged to drop to his own knees, to take Ragnar's large cock into his own mouth and suck as much as he can. Instead, Ragnar pulls away, backs up as Athelstan releases his tunic and covers himself. With a bit of extra strength, he pushes himself onto his feet and moves to follow Ragnar. But Ragnar shakes his head, places his hand on Athelstan's shoulder to hold him a few inches away. "Not now Athelstan," Ragnar says and places a kiss on Athelstan's lips quick, before Athelstan can even react, "but I will see you very soon." Ragnar promises, with a tone that lets him know that Ragnar will hold fast to his claim.


End file.
